That's What I Get

I have so much fun torturing my Hunny with clowns that I sometimes forget about payback. Yeah. It's everything they say it is.

See this cute little clown?

It was waiting on my Hunny's dresser, tucked away, staring at him as he stepped to his closet to get dressed, Friday. I thought it was amusing. He didn't say much about it.

This weekend we rearranged the living room. If it was up to me, we'd leave every piece of furniture in the house exactly where it is for the rest of our lives. That would work for me. But my brilliant Hunny likes to move things. And I'm usually happier once we get things shifted. This time it opened up our living room and made a huge difference. Me like.

In the moving, some things were unearthed which we haven't seen in awhile. Books, especially. We have hundreds of them downstairs. I bagged up a few dozen to give away, a few dozen more to take to the used bookstore. And we found a toy which had been tucked away.

The kids like using him to freak each other out. They put him on each other's beds, in the bathroom, in the fridge, wherever. I walked through the dining room yesterday (the stuff left to be put away is on the table) and found him like this:

See?

Totally creeped me out.

I was gone all day. Came home and he'd left the basket. Gone. Freaking me out just a little, I won't lie to you.

So. I can't say it was my Hunny. Might have been one of the kids. But the ante has been upped. Just sayin'.

Until I write again ...

Flea